


Tomato Sauce, Please

by shepromisestheearth



Category: friend’s ocs lol
Genre: F/F, Fluff, dinner date, for a friend !!! :), italian restaurant, mwah, tired after work, treating your s/o
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 08:30:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18332387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepromisestheearth/pseuds/shepromisestheearth
Summary: Charlie’s exhausted after a day of work, so Delilah decides to treat her to a dinner at a fancy Italian restaurant.





	Tomato Sauce, Please

**Author's Note:**

> for my lovely friend !

“I really appreciate it, Del, I do.” Charlie said, rubbing her face, “Sorry if I don’t sound very appreciative, I’m just tired.” 

“Oh, you’re fine.” Delilah took her hand and squeezed it. Her pale green eyes met Charlie’s dark ones for a moment, before she bit down on her curled lips and looked down at the menu. Her other hand reached for the straw of her water, absentmindedly sucking it as her eyes scanned the black ink. 

The restaurant sat with a low hum, the dinner rush in full swing. Charlie had insisted that this place was too expensive, charged for breadsticks, but Delilah shut her up by throwing the yoga pants she’d been wearing to box orders at her face. So they’d come, the warm yet dull light of the lamp swinging between them. 

“You look pretty,” Charlie said dumbly. She was wearing that lipstick that Charlie liked, a dark red that made her teeth even whiter; she had worn eyeshadow, too, making her eyes sultry in the darkened restaurant. The dress she wore was extremely flattering- too flattering, hugging her curves in all the right ways, Charlie thought- colored like the wine they had brought to the table at request. 

“Thanks.” Delilah flushed, “You do too.” 

“This old thing?”

“It looks nice. I like it when you wear that shirt, even if it’s got a hole,” Delilah smirked, leaning forward onto her hand. Her feet tapped against the wooden floor.

Charlie looked down, pulling at the pale blue fabric, “Does it?”

“Near the nape of your neck. Don’t worry, I’ll fix it.” Delilah said. 

“Oh, alright.” Charlie pushed her black hair over her shoulder, suddenly too self aware. Fuck, was that Del’s bra? She wondered to herself, raising her eyebrows at the white lace that peeked out from under the velvet dip that broadcasted Delilah’s perfect bosom. 

“My eyes are up here, you pig,” Delilah kicked Charlie’s ankle.

“I wasn’t-,” 

“I’m kidding. Just wait ‘till we get home, hm?” Delilah said, “Are you getting a calzone again? Well, I am treating you, it’s just you always get the same thing.” 

Charlie could hardly listen to her through her disbelief. Wait until we get home? What did that mean?

“Charlie? Are you listening to me?” Delilah asked, rubbing her thumb against the back of Charlie’s hand; her eyes were wide, concerned. 

“Shit, sorry,” Charlie said, “I am listening, just go on, baby.” 

“Why don’t you tell me about your day?” Delilah said, “I always talk so much. What fun things were you up to?”

Charlie grunted. 

“Don’t be like that.” Delilah patted her hand, “I just want to hear about your job.” 

“I wouldn’t call it fun,” 

“Well, just tell me anyways.” Delilah said. Her eyes were bright, taking an interest Charlie that wasn’t used to from people. 

“Hi, have we figured out what to order?” The waitress said, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Her pen was held above her notepad, a toothy smile. 

“Uh, yeah, I’ll have a cheese calzone,” Charlie said, pursing her lips as she pulled her hand away from Delilah’s to close the menu. 

“I’ll have the spaghetti, please, with the tomato sauce,” Delilah said to the waitress, and handed her the two menus. 

The waitress pressed the menus to her chest, “No problem,”

“Thank you!” Delilah managed as she left, turning the corner of the booths and disappearing through the rows of booths to go back to the kitchen. 

“So uh, I guess work wasn’t very interesting. Tiring, yeah. I had to hold a guy down who was on meth, so that was fun. 200 goddamn pounds, sheesh,” Charlie said, picking up her phone as it lit up with a notification; she laid in back down, uninterested, “Fuck the police, I guess,”

“No, never.” Delilah rubbed Charlie’s wrist, “My girlfriend, making waves in the Chicago police department by being a Native American cop!”

Charlie rolled her eyes, “God, Delilah, you make it sound like that should be in my credentials.” 

“You know what I mean.” Delilah pouted, her chin resting on the palm of her hand, “I’m proud of you. Really. All that training at the academy, and now look at you.” 

“Thanks,” Charlie said, her eyes moving to Delilah’s hand, holding hers. On her index sat the ring Charlie had gotten her last Christmas, not an engagement ring, but just something to wear when she felt like it. 

“You wanna do anything after dinner? Go to the mall?”

Charlie shook her head, taking a sip of her wine, “I just wanna go home and lay down for a while, but you can go out if you’d like.” 

“Back hurt?”

Charlie nodded.

“Well, I’ll rub it for you. Mom got in a shipment of essential oils, so she gave me some. Lavender might be nice, it’d help you sleep.” Delilah said, “Are you off?”

“Tomorrow? Yeah.” Charlie said, “I’ll help you with store stocking stuff, if you want.”

Delilah’s face lit up, her full cheeks blossoming pink, “Really? You would?” 

“Yeah, I can't sew by any means, but I can help with laying out the clothes for pictures.” Charlie said, squeezing her hand, “You deserve the help.”

“Well, Mom’s been helping some,” Delilah said, pushing a curl behind her ear, “Thank you, sweetheart.” 

“That’s my job.” 

Delilah only smiled, whispering, “I could kiss you right now,”

Charlie bounced her eyebrows, and Delilah slapped her wrist playfully with a laugh; Charlie smiled, too, her cheeks hurting. 

“Spaghetti?” The waitress from earlier asked, to which Delilah meekly raised her hand, “I’ll be right out with your calzone,” 

Face pulled back into its eternal somber, Charlie wrapped her fingers around Delilah’s. She watched as Delilah picked up her fork between those dainty fingers, stabbing it into her noodles and swirling them in the sauce before shoveling it in her mouth. 

“What’s on your mind?” Delilah asked, looking up at her with tomatoes flecked on her lips.

“Nothing, I’m all good, I’m with my girl.” Charlie said, giving her a toothless smile. Delilah seemed to ease, pleased by her response. Blush filled her cheeks at the sentiment, and Charlie poked her arm teasingly, “Still not used to it after four years, Del?”

“Oh, shut up. I’ll never get used to this.” Delilah said, pausing, “That’s a good thing, y’know.” 

“Same here.” 

The waitress came with Charlie’s calzone, a steaming heap of dough filled with tomato sauce and cheese; it smelt heavenly, and Delilah even looked up from sprinkling parmesan to say so. 

Charlie cut off a portion and the steam poured into her face, filling her nostrils and relaxing her brow. Her body ached with exhaustion, her muscles taut with lactic acid; she was holding Delilah’s hand too tight, she knew, but she didn’t say a word. She put the cheese on her tongue, and let it burn in the most delightful way.


End file.
